Nothing Good Ever Happens In Montreal

I’m going to get a lot of flack for the title of this story. I’m okay with because it’s true. I’ve only been to Montreal three times and every one of them was terrible in their own way. This is a true story about the last time I was there.

This story starts here in Toronto. My partner at the time - let’s call her Lucy - wanted to go on a trip to Montreal. I agreed because I figured that perhaps the first two times I was there, the terrible times were merely coincidental. I was wrong.

I would like to back up and include this anecdote. It’ll make sense by the end. Lucy was living with me and she often told me about the man that came out from behind the washing machine at night. Should’ve been a red flag. There were a lot of red flags in that relationship. I must have gone temporarily colour blind. Anyway, in my place there was a walk-in closet and inside was the washing machine and clothes dryer. She explained to me that every night, the man who lived behind the washing machine came out and stood over us. I have no definitive proof that this didn’t happen, but I also live in the world and so don’t need proof that she was fucking with me as she often did.

Fast forward a few weeks and we are driving to Montreal. I have arranged an AirBnb in the artistic neighbourhood of Mile End. An old house, one that would make it easy for us to check out the city. It was the tail-end of winter and still very cold in Montreal. We found the AirBnb and drove around behind the house to park. Because it’s so cold in Montreal, the roads freeze with thick layers of ice. But ice with giant holes in it. So when I got halfway down the laneway, my car got stuck in a giant hole. After a long time and several annoyed French drivers that wanted me out of their way, I finally pushed the car out of the hole, having to run along side the car, and jump in.

Great start.

The apartment was the third floor of an old house. It had rickety circular stairs that felt like each time you stepped, it could be your last. Inside was not much better. It was huge and had lots of personality, but in severe need of repair. We went out for dinner and came back. Upon returning, Lucy let me know that she was deeply uncomfortable staying in this place. That’s fine, we can figure something else out. But she wasn’t uncomfortable because of the place, but the spirits that were floating around.

We ended up staying the night. The bedroom was big and the entrance, which was right parallel with the bed, had no door. In the middle of the night, Lucy woke me up because she saw someone standing in the doorway. I got up and crept around the house. I didn’t see anything, but he could be hiding anywhere! We went back to bed and eventually we both fell asleep.

At some point in the night, I woke up. All I remember is that something told me not to open my eyes. Kind of like at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark. I felt a presence in the room and specifically someone or something standing in the doorway. Do not open your eyes. You know when you have your eyes closed but you can sort of still see or at least sense things? I felt the someone or something get closer until it was right in front of my face. Do not open your eyes. After what seemed like forever, it finally backed away and out of the room.

The next morning we packed our things and left. And I haven’t been back to Montreal since because nothing good ever happens there.